


Stille Nacht

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 11:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5246411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was only a moment of inattention, Damian was sure. But next thing he knew, his hands were under Dick’s sweater, Dick was lightly pushing him backwards into the sofa and the television was cheering <i>God bless us, everyone!</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Stille Nacht

**Author's Note:**

> a winter holidays 2014 tumblr prompt
> 
> Basically just a lot of pointless shmoop and mushy goop and potential cavity-inducing sweetness, because that’s all I want from this ship. Damian’s 26, Dick is probably going on 40, been in a relationship for like 2-3 years. Takes place late night on Christmas Eve. Sort of used the term ‘warmth’ as a synonym for ‘love’ here. Supplemental listening: ‘Stille Nacht’ by Mannheim Steamroller.

He was so _warm_.

Damian had complained at first. Complained about moving back into the penthouse, complained about decorating, complained about the holiday foods, even complained about things that were out of anyone’s control, like the snowstorm currently trapping them inside.

(Most of Wayne Tower’s electrical grid had short-circuited hours ago, the main doors blocked by the ever falling snow. The apartment had it’s own energy generator, but even that didn’t stop the elevator from shutting down with the rest of the skyscraper. Not like it would have made much of a difference. All the exits from the Bat-bunker to the streets were frozen or blocked, according to Oracle’s computer analysis, so it’s not like they were going to be any use to Batman either.)

But he wasn’t complaining now, cocooned in a blanket and curled against Dick’s side. Wasn’t complaining now, as Dick sang quietly along with the movie _A Christmas Carol_ playing on their television. Not now, as Dick curled his arm tightly around Damian’s shoulders and ducked down, breathing eggnog-scented kisses across the side of Damian’s face.

No, no more complaining. Not with this _warmth_.

Damian closed his eyes and twisted in the embrace, pressing closer to Dick’s side, his own arms slithering tightly around Dick’s waist as he burrowed his face into the hideously green sweater Dick insisted on wearing.

(Damian was wearing the equally horrendous red one that Dick claimed _matched_.)

Dick hummed, continuing his gentle assault on Damian’s face. “Don’t like the movie?”

“Seen it.”

Dick snorted, smacked a wet kiss right below Damian’s right eye. “You have not.”

“I’ve seen a version of it – one with _much_ less singing – and read the book.” Damian countered. He kept pushing against Dick, almost like he was trying to melt into his skin. He felt Dick smile against his temple, and suddenly Dick’s other hand was caressing his cheek. “You know, it’s much less about the holiday of Christmas than most people realize.”

“Of course I know that. But don’t ruin the fun.” Dick chuckled. It vibrated against Damian’s flesh, and he felt his face heating up in a blush.

_Warm._ So _warm._

There was a commotion in the film – a loud voice shouting gleefully about how someone should drink from a golden cup – and Dick shifted slightly to look at it. After a few moments, Damian felt Dick turn again, towards the window to their left, before he leaned back against Damian’s hair, hand resuming stroking his face. “Storm’s still bad. I…hope Bruce is doing alright.”

Damian twisted his fingers in the scruff of Dick’s sweaters and grunted. He hoped so too.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to go on patrol tonight, Damian.” Dick whispered. “I know how much you love beating up bad guys on Christmas.”

Damian shrugged. Truthfully he couldn’t care less about it. He only wanted to be out there to help his father, who was trying to pretend he wasn’t showing signs of his old age.

(And to privately unveil his gift for Dick. A large, bronze memorial statue to his parents at his favorite park, and the designs for an upcoming exhibit for the Flying Graysons at Gotham’s History Museum.)

“Can’t be helped.” Damian muttered. “I’m sorry too.”

“…For?”

“I know you had plans to have Cain, Drake and Todd over this evening. For a holiday party.” Damian explained. “I’m sorry the storm ruined that. I’m…sorry you won’t be able to see the family.”

Dick’s hand stopped against his cheek. The film’s dialogue filled the brief silence, but Damian wasn’t listening enough to know what it was about. Suddenly Dick’s hand ran down his face, curling under his chin and pushing it up. Damian’s eyes blinked open.

They hadn’t had many lights on to begin with. A few candles on the kitchen counter, and the lights on the Christmas tree by the window. But otherwise none. Too many glares on the television, Dick had said, totally unacceptable for the classic film. But now, it seemed that the room was bathed in a dim golden yellow. Cozy and soft. Comfortable and happy.

Oh, so _warm_.

And it all started at Dick’s smile.

There was a magic in that smile, and Damian wasn’t the first to notice it. But this one was different. This smile didn’t just create dimples in his cheeks or spread to his eyes. It spread to his whole _body_. He bounced on the spot, feet lifting from the floor as he rotated his arms, taking Damian’s face in his hands. Damian immediately tensed his grip on Dick’s sweater, in fear that the man was going to pull him off.

“Damian.” He said fondly, gaze darting across Damian’s features. “You’re saying that as if it’s a _bad thing_ it’s just you and me.”

Damian blinked rapidly, mouth opening before a protest could be built in his mind.

“It’s never _been_ just you and me.” Dick continued absently. “And isn’t that weird? After all these years, after…hm, well, _everything_ you and I have been through and done. We’ve never spent Christmas just you and me. We’ve never spent the holidays… _properly_.”

“I didn’t mean-”

Dick pushed his hands together, squishing Damian’s face. Damian pinched at Dick’s sweater, hoping he was hitting the skin underneath. Dick just laughed. “I mean, you’re right, I do miss the family. But I’d rather them safe at home than try the storm to get here, you know? Besides…”

“Gwayson…” Damian tried. Dick laughed and pulled his hands apart, but still kept them gently on Damian’s face.

“You’re enough.” Dick muttered tenderly, shifting closer. He tilted Damian’s head back further and slowly descended. “You’re _more than_ enough, Damian.”

Damian tried to sit up, tried to meet him halfway, but Dick wouldn’t let him. He held him in place, coming to him on his own time. Damian dug his nails into the sweater, dragged them down his shoulder blades in impatience.

Their lips met and they practically swooned against each other. And wasn’t that silly? They’d done this hundreds of times before, and then some. Smooth and slow, Damian tasted every bit of dry skin of those chapped lips. They were _delicious_.

Damian’s eyes involuntarily fluttered closed, but not before he gleefully watched Dick’s do the same. And that _warmth_. That warmth was growing, palpable now. Pushing at Damian from all sides, and radiating off Dick in waves. He could see the warmth through his eyelids, felt like he was swimming in it. Drowning, maybe, and happily so.

It was only a moment of inattention, Damian was sure. But next thing he knew, his hands were under Dick’s sweater, Dick was lightly pushing him backwards into the sofa and the television was cheering _God bless us, everyone!_

Their mouths didn’t disconnect until Damian’s back was against the cushions, and even then it wasn’t for long. Dick liked quick pecks and Damian wasn’t strong enough to not give him exactly what he wanted.

“Love you.” Dick mumbled quietly, but seriously, across his lips. Damian got that whiff of eggnog all over again. In the glow of the tiny tree lights, Damian watched as Dick’s eyes opened, the blue irises sincere and deep and adoring. “I _love_ you.”

“I love you, too.” Damian breathed as Dick kissed down his jaw. He stopped there, though, wrapping his arms securely around Damian’s waist and snuggling into his neck. Dick was a heavy weight against his chest, but Damian would never complain. He kept his hands firmly under Dick’s sweater, thumbs stroking at his muscles. “ _This_ wouldn’t happen to be my Christmas gift, would it?”

Dick huffed incredulously. “Of course not. That’s down in the bunker.” He raised his head only slightly, half-lidded eyes sliding over to the tree, bright in the corner, then the window, where the snow blew harshly, and finally landed back on the TV.

“Yours is in my briefcase. Or, well. At least part of it.” Damian fumbled, glancing over at the tree, with all its gifts underneath. For the family, of course. Damian had thought about wrapping the documents for the museum exhibit, but didn’t want to ruin the sentimentality with poor wrapping. Instead, he sighed. “I’ll have to explain it. I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

“Oooh, complicated presents. My favorite.” Dick chuckled, running his nose up Damian’s face. He pressed a long kiss to Damian’s cheek, but lingered in the aftermath. The credits to the film began rolling. He stretched his foot, kicking at the remote with toes until the screen shut off. Silence fell across the large room, but it was pleasant, especially in the glimmer of the candles and tree. Dick closed his eyes, relishing the moment. They never last long, for a ridiculously long list of reasons. But maybe…maybe this time it would. Maybe this moment wouldn’t be a _moment_ at all. He tightened his grip on the younger man’s waist, exhaling a whisper. “Merry Christmas, Damian.”

Damian pursed his lips, feeling that same blush flash across his face once more. He turned his head into the touch slightly, glancing up through his lashes as he locked his arms around Dick, holding him as close as possible. Dick grinned. _Warmth_. “Merry Christmas, Richard.”


End file.
